Glass, Leather, and Pearls
by Rhanon Brodie
Summary: Well...the title comes from traditional and modern anniversary gifts. Don't ask me how it turned into this. Eric and Sookie get kinda kinky along an exploration of some of the smoothest, slickest substances around. Very M. You've been told.
1. glass

_A/N inspired by Pam in Pastel's 'Sookie in a Sex Shop'. I've been playing with this idea for a while now, but in this one they're the way Charlaine made them – human, telepathic girl and devilishly Nordic vampire._

glass

really, I shouldn't be blushing. Should I? I've had sex. A lot of sex. Recently. Well, in general. But all with the same man…vampire. You get my drift. So, yes, I've been intimate with someone, been naked, wet, dirt-covered, blood soaked, horny, tired, angry, heart broken…all with one man…_vampire_. So standing in 'Babes in Toyland' in Baton Rouge shouldn't be that big a deal, right? I look up from a rack of absurdly titled adult films, both human and supe themed, and I try not to giggle at the more obvious titles: _Frankenpenis. Intercourse with a Vampire. An American Werewolf in London_ – 'London' in this case is a balloon chested blonde with tacky nails and bad skin. _The 13__th__ Porno…_ ewww…that's just wrong! But there goes my hand, grabbing the box, flipping it over to see what they've done to further butcher Michael Chriton's _Eaters of the Dead_. There's a dark haired guy, obviously of eastern descent to portray Ibn-Al Farrad…Holy walkin' talkin' Jesus – is that…I almost drop the box as my eyes land on one of the men cast to portray a Nordic warrior…that can't be…please tell me it's not…

"Ah, some of my earlier work."

I yelp, surprised, spin, clutching the damned film box to my chest and find that annoyingly suave Eric Northman grinning back at me. Wait, did he just say 'some of my earlier work'? I glance back at the box and then back to that damn smirk. To the box again, squinting, then back to Eric. It's not him, I can see that now, but the resemblance is uncanny. I smack his shoulder with the box and huff, spinning to put it back.

"Sookie Stackhouse, I must say, this is the last place I expected to find you."

"And for some reason, your presence is not so surprising." I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you following me?" I whisper tightly.

He cocks an eyebrow, amused, sure of himself, and his grins crookedly before leaning down to my space. "Great minds think alike, Sookie." He winks and looks about the store.

"I doubt that," I mutter, making my way _far_ away from him. This is what I _so_ did not need tonight! I'd driven here with Tara last night for a girl's weekend and we had come across the shop after dinner this evening. I find myself standing before a wall of every sexual stimulator known to man…er…woman? Human. And they're all arranged in chromatic order, from the yellow 'Havana Banana Rama' that looks more or less like the innocent fruit it stole its name from to a more ominous 'Black Knight'. That's kind of self explanatory but hold mother, that thing is HUGE! I blush as I cock my head and contemplate it.

"Everyone has a kink, Sookie. Different strokes for different folks. I myself…"

I held up a hand, bristling that Eric had followed me over here. "I don't need to know what kind of strokes you like…" My mouth claps shut and my cheeks burn as beside me, Eric chuckles, deep and smooth. I feel it all the way between my thighs and I squirm on the spot.

He's stopped talking for a moment. I feel the air stir behind me and then his cool breath is on my neck, his fingertips barely stroking my shoulder as he moves behind me. "Are you sure?"

I don't answer him. I choose to ignore him. Or at least I _try_ to. He's just…_standing _there, leering at me with that infuriating grin that tells me he doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what I'm thinking. I'm sure my blood is pounding a mile a minute and he's taken a deep breath through his nose – Bill told me once that he could smell my…arousal. A bit unsettling at first, but he assured me that it was quite intoxicating. I wonder if Eric finds it just as…_stop it, Sookie_! I scold myself. _Billbillbillbillbillbillbill…_

"You know, I don't like to brag…"

I snort at _that_, but let him continue.

"But I have been around the block once or twice. Perhaps…" he trails off, waiting for me to turn to him, to acknowledge him…and I do, spinning, my hair fanning out and no doubt tickling his nose and the chest exposed by his black tank top. He smiles again, a little more genuine than usual, and he flicks his eyes away as if…he's… embarrassed? Shy? Somewhat apprehensive, but it passes and soon those glacial blue irises are locked on me. "Shall I help you find something…suitable?" And then I feel the cool, tingling slide of his eyes as they flicker down my body, lingering on my breasts, hips…thighs…

"No thank you," I answer, a little too breathlessly, and I lick my lips subconsciously. His pupils dilate then, nostrils flared, and he is suddenly a lot closer than he was a moment ago. I _gulp_. Blush more, open my mouth to protest. "I don't think…"

"Yes you do," he says smoothly. "All the time, I bet. You think about it. You're an interesting creature, Sookie, more so than the average woman." He licks his lips and I think I whimper at that. "I bet you think about _it_ a lot." He doesn't even give me time to register what he's saying and he's got my hand in his and he's turning to lead me to another section of the store.

I pull against his grip but his fingers tighten on mine and he drags me along. I admit I'm curious as to where we're going. I glance over my shoulder to find that Tara has started a conversation with a clerk and they're bantering quite well. I feel another tug on my arm and I gulp and suddenly I'm smashed against Eric's side and his hand is falling to my hip.

The wall is…_glittering_. There, displayed on glass shelves, nestled against smooth velvet cloths, halogen lamps glinting are some of the most…highly erotic and…beautiful…

"Glass," Eric whispers gently, and he bends so that he can speak directly in my ear.

I am dazzled by the smooth craft of them, the different ribbons of color swirling, the bumps and swirls and curves, bulbs and tear drops…I swallow and am very aware of how hot it is there even if I can feel the cold of Eric's should as it slides against my bare back. I had bought a new halter top that morning, pale yellow with lace trim. Had to wear it; it was new. You understand. Paired it with a pair of denim cut offs that, if they were any shorter, were likely to get Gran turning over in her grave. Hell she was probably turning backflips already – _why _am I thinking about _Gran_??!!

"Can I take something out for you?"

Another clerk has found us and I jump and turn, pasting on a forced, broad smile. "Oh, no I…"

"Yes," Eric answers swiftly, his tone cutting me off. He then turns to me and nudges my attention back to the case. "Do you see something you like?" He is challenging me. I can see it in his eyes and the way he stands – something is lurking there, wanting to know just how far I'll go with his game…and then something that lies below that tells me _Sookie, this isn't a game. Eric wants you. And you_ like_ it_.

Fuck. "The blue one," I smile, turning and pointing a finger to the case to the one that is pale aqua glass, shot through with a ribbon of sapphire.

"A fine choice," the woman begins, sliding behind the counter and unlocking it. She lays a black velvet cloth on the topside of the counter and takes out my choice. "Hand made. The best thing about these is that you can pop em' in boiling water and heat em' up real nice." Her gaze lingers on Eric for a moment. "On the other hand," she continues with a grin, "stick em' in a freezer and it's like a popsicle." Her lips look sinful forming that last word and she winks and sets it down to wander away and let me have a more personal look.

My fingers curl against the glass counter for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should actually touch it. It's not like it's an _obvious_ sex toy. It's kinda pretty, actually. I draw a finger tip down the smooth curve of it, smile at the raised bumps on one end.

"It's a good choice for G-spot stimulation," Eric says matter-of-factly and I look to him, curious.

"G-spot?" Now, I'm not a _complete_ prude, I do know about it but I've just never…been able to reach that…yet.

When he smirks I want to slap him – it's so…condescending and patronizing.

He nods, and proceeds to give me a very in depth lecture. "This end," he begins, holding up the rod of glass and tapping the end that's tear drop shaped, "when applied at the right angle at the right spot with the right pressure, will make you see stars." He pauses. "You do know the spot I'm talking about, right? Next time, when you're alone in your room, all snug in your bed, I want you to slide those pretty little fingers under your panties – you look like the kind of girl who wears her panties to bed – and get comfortable. Right inside, if you hook your fingertips along the upper wall and go like this…" and he proceeds to demonstrate with those long, graceful fingers, a gentle 'come-hither' motion with two digits… "you'll feel it. And trust me, you'll know when you've found it. Now, if you keep on rubbing there, you're going to feel something…kind of like you have to pee…"

"Eric!" I hiss, glancing down to the clerk. She's smiling, but her eyes are trained on a High Times magazine.

"Shh, this is important. You want to do it right…_right_?"

_Actually, I want you to do it. Right. Right now._ I nod quickly, dreading the smug satisfaction on his face.

He turns his body then and blocks me from the clerk, his hand trailing around my hip but not breaking the contact. With his other hand he reaches up, smoothes my hair back from my neck and strums my pulse with his thumb. My gaze is in his.

"This is where _this_," and he smiles, waving the glass casually, "comes in handy."

Oh this is not good. Not good, not good, he's…not really going to…

"Now that you're hot," he murmurs with a little shrug, a tip of his head.

Shit, he is. Oh, he's going for it and I'm hopping on for the ride.

"And very, very wet," he continues. His blue eyes blaze. "Slip it inside. Tilt it back to that spot." He is quiet now, his voice a low rolling hum that makes me pulse in lovely places.

"You'll know what to do." He chuckles. "Because you know how you like it. How you _crave_ it. I know it, Sookie.

"It feels so _good_, Sookie," he whispers thickly. The blue in his eyes goes smoky. "It's right there below the surface, you can just taste it on your tongue and feel the tingle in the pit of your stomach and the small of your spine. Now do it harder." He hisses through is teeth, inhaling, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. They snap open suddenly and he glares at me. "Breathe."

I feel a tremor run through me. I suck in breath desperately and I am suddenly very aware of two things:

My panties are soaked.

Eric Northman is tutoring me on the finer art of getting myself to a fantastic orgasm.

Hell, he could probably keep talking and I'd have a little death right there. My breath is erratic, I'm squirming on the spot and _how does he do that with just his voice_?

"Don't neglect that perfect little pearl of flesh, Sookie. Touch your clit." His words are thick, whispered like smoke. "And just when you think you're going to go blind and your hips are bucking…your back is arching…so good, _Sookie_. Just let it go. And scream for me."

The shrill chirp of a cell phone breaks the spell and Eric straightens as if he wasn't just trying to talk me into an orgasm and he pulls out the phone. He speaks Swedish. Pam, then, on the other end. He snaps the phone shut a few seconds later and smirks at what I can only think is my flushed skin, glassy eyes, over-licked lips…my lipstick is probably a little smeared.

"Business calls. As always, Sookie, it is a pleasure to see you."

And just like that he's gone, headed out the door and into the night and I'm left standing in damp panties staring at a case full of pretty glass toys. I drum my fingers on the counter and sigh, trying to dispel some of the tension around me. The girl behind the counter moves, takes the piece I had been looking at and proceeds to clean it before slipping it into a little black velvet bag. She drops that into a non descript red opaque plastic bag and hands it to me.

"I've used an anti-bacterial cleanser on it but I recommend boiling it for at least five minutes before you first use it. A mild soap will clean it every time after – it's not porous like latex."

"I…" I stare at the bag in her hand dumbly. "I'm not buying…"

She nods. "Don't worry." Her gaze flicks to the door that Eric has just left out of. "He is."


	2. leather

_A/N Thanks so much to those that have reviewed and those yet to leave their mark…a nod to sarahllujah (love the name, girl!) for making me one of her favourite authors!_

_I know some of you wanted me to continue with _glass_, but I like where it ended so I think I'll just move right along to _leather_ (and this one is going to get REALLY interesting). But who knows…maybe there will be outtakes? A redux? Anything goes here, readers. This didn't turn out exactly as I planned, but hey, such is writing. _

_Oh, and one other thing – **I own nothing here**. And if Alan Ball is looking for Alex Skarsgard to start filming the next season, he maybe hard pressed because that Viking is currently pillaging…things…_

leather

it was cold in New York. Cold and damp and it was when I wrapped my hand around Bill's I noticed that he wore no gloves.

But Eric did.

"I like the feel of leather on my skin," he whispered later, a soft, warm press against my collarbone. "Do you, Sookie?"

I swallowed thickly, shook under his touch, but didn't answer. Instead, he moved his mouth, and therefore what little heat he possessed, and brought his eyes level to mine as he trailed his gloved fingertips down my throat and into the v created by the open front of my wool coat. I shivered at the soft slide of leather.

Bill was off, on some errand or another for the Queen – called away on duty while we worked in New York and for some reason, when she told him that I would be perfectly fine under Eric's watch, he shrugged and agreed.

Didn't put up much of a fight.

But then again, neither did I.

It was past midnight. Eric had mumbled an excuse to remove me and him from the 'bureaucratic bullshit' that the social gathering had sunk into. He had tucked my hand over his arm and escorted me out of the penthouse and through the lobby of the complex and out into the sharp bite of October.

He asked me if I was hungry and I was so he took me to a little dive Italian place that, according to him, had the most amazing seven year Chianti. I asked him how he knew.

He smirked, secretive, playful, truthful all in one – he always managed to convey so much with just a look. "Because I trust Gina. She never lies."

Whoever Gina was – and I didn't ask; I afforded Eric his privacy because if there was one danger that I would not go near, it was getting too personal with Eric – she was right. I sipped thoughtfully, waiting for my gnocchi in rose sauce. As I swiped the last bite across the remaining sauce, I thought about it, about Eric's privacy and getting too personal. To me, the mind was most intimate, for obvious reasons. But I couldn't reach is mind so I left it and thought that physical intimacy would still keep me out of harm's way. After all, is it not a greater price to pay for emotions?

I was naïve.

I still am.

"Trust me, Sookie." So I let him unwind my scarf, standing in that darkened doorstep on a New York street corner, October rain pelting the awning, his gloved fingers slipping the buttons open on my coat.

His tongue was like cool, wet velvet, pressing against mine, his scent crisp, cold. And when Eric kissed, it was with his whole body. He pushed against me, grunting into my mouth, pulling my hips against his and rocking me gently.

"The beginning," he muttered hoarsely. I was keenly reminded of my dream in Dallas. And the dreams that followed. Was this a dream?

"Eric," I stuttered, forcing my eyes open suddenly. My lips felt like they were bruised and they probably were. They tingled where his had touched them and I raised a hand but he caught my fingers and touched me himself.

My tongue snaked out and I tasted leather. Nipped at the fine grain of it, chewed playfully on a glove tip and then, in a twist of naughtiness, took that entire digit into my mouth and sucked for all I was worth.

I think I surprised him – his eyes widened almost comically and then they were hooded, lust-filled, and that damn grin was back, begging me, mocking me…Seconds later my coat was parted and he had bunched my skirt to my hips and slid a knee between mine, knocking my legs wider. He kissed me, deep and sound, and one hand held my shoulder against the shop door while the other…ohmygod the other…slipped down, from my lips to my thighs and then pushed my panties aside.

The leather was warm from my mouth and the soft, smooth surface of it slid against the wetness that had pooled there the moment Eric had pushed me into the shadows. I twisted in his grip, moving my hips, trying to make some sort of friction that would ease the burning ache that had settled low in my pelvis. He shushed me, pulling back and watching my reaction with what I can only describe as fascination, as he gently sank that gloved finger into my folds.

I hissed, bucked against him, caught his forearms and braced myself. He shook the blond hair from his eyes, moved the hand on my shoulder to my collarbone so that he could strum the dip between my clavicles. Hot and cold tore through my veins, along every nerve ending and I strained up on my toes, more than my heels could afford, moving, trying to find the right spot to just make him fill the void that was obviously empty. He did not disappoint. Slowly, teasing, he pushed against my quivering entrance, dipping in with leather and lust only to pull out with more moisture and circle my clit, dance along the edges of slick folds and then, when he had repeated this pattern…dip, slide, circle, sink, dip, slide, circle, sink, and made me cry out breathlessly, he chuckled.

Moaned my name.

Licked his lips and turned his gaze now to where he touched me and with a slight shift of his body, the shadows moved and he could see where his fingers, cased in black leather, were fucking me into a slow insanity.

"Sookie," he uttered, thickly. The heat in his voice was something I had never heard before and I was pulled from my tingling haze to find him looking at me. "Sookie, watch me," he begged. His free hand titled my hips forward and he shifted again.

It was beautiful, the sight he showed me: black leather, soft, slick with my arousal, sliding in and out snugly, pulling back, wetter, pushing in, tighter, deeper. I moaned, deep, low, all the way to my bones, and shook under Eric's touch.

I would deny it later – the way I panted his name, stared him blatantly in the eyes, nothing to hide, exposed to him and half of New York. I didn't care. Not then. Not now. He'll forever have the memory of my hips bucking into his hand, my upper lip damp with perspiration, my hair in disarray. The sweet sound of my whine still echoes in my head and wakes me from a dead sleep, the sheets damp, my heart thundering, my fingers curling into the spot next to me, wishing…

I _fucked_ myself on his fingers, worked at my completion, and his face was eager to see it, see me come to a massive quivering finish. He groaned with me, flicked that cool gaze from my eyes to where he worked my pussy into a frenzy. When his thumb joined his pumping fingers and pressed roughly just to the left of my clit, I made a guttural noise deep in my lungs and gripped his broad shoulders. One foot lifted, fitting the heel of my shoe into the space between the brick façade, giving both of us a better angle.

I cussed him out good and I think he chuckled at this, at my words for him – bastard, fucker, son of a bitch, fucking Viking…all the while begging him… "Pleaseyespleaseohyesyesyesyesfuuunnnghhhhfuckyes! Ohholyshitimgoingto… Ericericericyesimgoingtoyesyes…."

"Going to what, Sookie?" He groaned, his hand working faster.

And then it was like someone was standing behind me and they reached out, tipped my shoulder forward and I was falling…headfirst into some dark writhing madness and it was hot and cold and blinding and stars bursting head swimming pop shake shake blur buzz…

My body went ramrod straight, my thighs tensed and my hand caught Eric's hair at the back of his head, snapping his head up to look in my eyes. "OHfuck!" I whispered sharply.

"Come for me, Sookie," he breathed across my lips. Then his tongue wound against mine and he groaned down my throat. "That's right, darling. Come for me."

And that smug bastard curved his fingers forward, knowing just where I liked it because I knew where I liked it and he had told me so only months before and I had gone home like a good girl and done as he had bidden and found that spot and…

bill returned two days later. Eric kept his distance. I knew it couldn't be easy for him – he had to be sporting some major blue balls after these past few months. Hell, he had made me gush like a fountain for him and I was still unsatisfied. So I let Bill take over, let him slide inside, and I smiled up at him when he did so and rode with him and gasped and moaned and shuddered in all the right places because that's what I was supposed to do.

Eric left a day before us. Bill was still asleep when the knock on our door came and I opened it to find one of the bellmen standing, arms outstretched, holding a small, flat box tied with a simple black satin ribbon. I tipped the man and turned back to the room. My eyes found Bill still sleeping and so I slipped into the bathroom for a bit more privacy. My hands shook as I slipped open the ribbon. There, nestled in the deep layers of tissue, sat Eric's gloves, the black leather gleaming. I picked them up, squeezed the soft leather and, in a moment of lusty remembrance, held them to my nose and inhaled.

TBC

Review. Thank you.


	3. pearls

_A/N To every reader who stopped by, to those who reviewed, those who put this story on update alert, favourite story, or favourite author…thank you ever so much. My deepest apologies for the late addition. Congratulations, all my readers, old and new, this is the second fanfic with multiple chapters that I actually FINISHED writing. This was a labor of love and I thank you for your patience. I think I'll just add a little lemon drop, pure PWP because really, there isn't enough of that for Sookie and Eric._

_Some have you have voiced concern over Sookie's return to Bill after that last one. Have you ever loved someone that you felt so certain that this was the one and the sex is fabulous and he is everything you could possibly hope for…and then one day you meet his friend (or his enemy!) and suddenly your eyes are open? It's greedy and it's selfish – we always want what we can't have and we're never truly happy with what we've currently got. I'm not saying this happens all the time, but it has happened to me. Danger, curiosity, the unknown – these are all powerful aphrodisiacs. It doesn't necessarily mean that it is the right choice._

_This one went ALL over the place for about three weeks.. We may see another chapter after this. Fair readers, old and new alike, are you ready?_

_I own nothing, save for glass, leather, and pearls. And I'm not making money with those (yet) either._

_interlude a: in which I slowly loose my sanity_

_"Do you want him?"_

_Could I lie to Bill? Could I stand here and tell him that no, Eric meant nothing to me and I could never imagine ever sharing a life with him and I certainly would never sleep with him?_

_"I don't know."_

_It was honest enough._

_"I…think I understand."_

_"How can you? I can't even understand it."_

_Bill thought for a moment. "It's the blood," he reasoned._

_I shook my head slowly. No, it wasn't the blood, not totally. It was me. It was me that wanted to know something else, that wanted to try a different type of…love? Infatuation? Attraction. That was a good word. That was safe. I said to Bill, very reasonably, "I've never been able to have a relationship with someone before I met you. And…Bill, I love you. I do. But what if…what if there's someone else? Another vampire, another possible chance to…" I stopped. He was hurting and that in turn made my stomach turn. I felt the pain clear enough through the blood and I felt the tears come fat and warm._

_"I have grown so much with you," I started. It hurt my heart to speak this way, but I knew I had to say it. "And I would never trade anything in the world for that…for our time, Bill. But that's all it can be right now. Our time. I need a chance to explore something else."_

_"Sookie, do you love Eric?"_

_"No," I answered truthfully. "I'd be lying if I said that this doesn't have anything to do with him. But this is more about me than anything, Bill. And I want out."_

_"Do you want him?"_

_Could I lie to Eric? Could I lie here and tell him that no, Bill meant nothing to me and I could never go back to him, never imagine it?_

_Fucking vampires._

pearls

i'm starting to lose my patience," Eric growls as I waffle over his suggestion to accompany Bill on his next 'business trip'. 'I'll be there, obviously,' he had added, as if it would sweeten the deal. I glance to where Bill is talking with Sam and, knowing that I'm looking, he turns and smiles, giving me a little wave, before going back to his conversation.

I scowl and spin so I'm not facing Bill and Sam and hiss my reply, "Well, I'm startin' to lose my sanity!"

"You're so difficult," he digs. "You'll do anything for the ones you love. Your brother. Your friends…"

"Bill," I remind him, not so gently.

He chuckles. "_Me_."

I have no answer. Because if I have to be honest with myself – and really, who are you gonna be honest with if not yourself? – he's right. He's absolutely right. Whatever Eric is to me, I love it and love him for it. I love to hate him and reversely as well. He's under my skin, in my thoughts, my dreams, my life…Bill. Bill is so perfect, gentleman, manners, loving, passionate, doting…Eric is challenging. Demanding, egotistical, equally passionate…maybe even more so…devoted, obsessive, compulsive, impulsive, a thinker, a leader…_king_.

I gasp. The thought comes, fleeting, drifts away. _King_.

"Sookie?"

"All right," I grouse. "Bill's going to Baton Rouge. Again. Apparently there's something that Sophie Ann can't handle on her own – honestly, how did she get to be queen? She's got everyone else doing her bidding."

"It's because she _is_ queen that everyone else does her bidding."

"You don't," I point out. It's true. Eric may follow the rules, but only when it suits him and his survival. He's alpha, through hand through.

"I do what I have to."

So do I.

"You do what you _want_ to, Eric," I shoot back.

"Tomato, tomahto."

"I hate you."

That laugh again – smooth, honey and silk. "No you don't."

Well, I'd like to.

***

_i'm starting to not care about a lot of things. _

_Another hotel. Another city. I'm startin' to think that it doesn't really matter where, and it doesn't really matter when, because sooner or later I'll find myself alone with him and I'll be in over my head._

_Most nights I wake up gasping with a pounding heart, like I was drowning, and I blush hotly remembering quite vividly the things my mind has conjured. I'm sinking deeper every time I'm in the same room as him – the blood pulls, Bill says, glancing at my face in the mirror…_

_…and now it is Eric's face staring at me from over my left shoulder as he gently trails his fingertips down my spine, dips along my lower back and then curves about my ass, sliding along the crease. "Do you feel that?"_

***

there's something missing," Pam drawls as she watches me step into the hotel lounge. I've come to…appreciate Pam, if nothing more. Tonight she's sitting in a booth, a leggy blonde next to her.

"Excuse me?"

"Your outfit. It's very nice…but there is something missing." She turns to the blonde next to her and murmurs softly in that language she shares with Eric. Then Pam turns her cool gaze back to me. "Leni agrees, don't you Leni?"

Her companion turns to me, looks me up and down, takes in the perfect cast of classy black heels, the sleekly cut silhouette of my jewel purple dress, bought on a dare while shopping with Tara. I've never worn it before.

"Pearls," Leni purrs, leaning forward, reaching with one long, graceful arm to my throat. She settles her finger there, dips between my collar bone and I shiver at the blue eyes staring up at me. I breathe out. Pam has gotten herself an anatomically pleasing version of Eric to keep her company. The similarity is unsettling and I step back from Leni's touch that is suddenly too hot and too cold.

Pam chuckles. Sliding from the booth, she comes to my side and takes my elbow. "Won't be but a moment and then you can go and find Eric. Trust me, Sookie. I know what I'm doing."

This is what I am afraid of.

Does Pam always keep an array of lingerie that is just my size? I eye here as she files through the closet in her room. It is plush, like velvet, purple and black and very…_Pam_. She looks at me thoughtfully.

"Let me guess – you're wearing white, but it's lace." She shakes her head. "That will never do. Here," and she thrusts three triangles of black, sheer material, the finest, silkiest mesh possible, into my hands. I rub the texture between thumb and forefinger and grin. I can just imagine what it feels like against my nipples and Pam must see my reaction.

It makes her laugh. Then she says, "Just wait until it gets wet." Then she unwinds a rope of multi coloured pearls and places them on the little pile of material. "And pearls, like I promised." Shoving me behind a changing screen, she settles back on the edge of the couch and waits.

It's odd, getting naked on this side of the screen when Pam is only feet away and Eric is prowling about in the building. I start talking – I do that when I'm nervous – and try to keep the conversation light.

"Is Leni…um…is she…"

"She's vampire," Pam confirms in a bored tone. "I don't normally go for my own kind but…well, you saw her. I can't fathom being with the Viking, so I got the next best thing. Are you done yet?"

So I suppose I've been told enough because her tone is short and clipped and she changes the subject like a master – she must have learned that trick from Eric. But my suspicions are confirmed; Leni is a female stand in for Eric. "Uh…" I struggle with the front clasp of the bra and finally get it to stick. "I think so…Done," I confirm, stepping out and zipping up my skirt. I don't look much different than when I came in here save for the pearls. I say as much with a helpless shrug.

She cocks her head and looks at my legs thoughtfully. "Are you wearing stockings?"

"No," I said. "I just figured they'd get in the way." I am fairly certain I am blushing at this admission, but this is Pam, for goodness sake – she's certainly heard it all.

"Aren't you practical," she drawls.

I lift the knot of pearls from between my breasts. "Are these real?"

"What do you think?"

She sounds exasperated and I shrug. "Aren't they a little much?"

Pam arches an eyebrow dangerously and her full lips smile, luscious, red. "Oh, believe me, Sookie. You'll have him intrigued with this little dress; it's not something we'd normally see you in…once the clothes hit the floor, however…" she gives me another glance, head to toe, and it thrills me, "he'll be your dog." She leans closer, curling a finger against my cheek softly. "But I never said that." She winks and shows me the door.

I've been standing in the doorway of Eric's room for at least fifteen seconds, watching the top of his blond head as he scribbles furiously in a ledger and then types, his long fingers flying over the keyboard. I'm convinced that he hasn't even noticed me when…

"Good evening, Sookie," he greets in that soft, even lilt. Doesn't look up, merely fiddles on his calculator. "Come in and close the door, please."

When I do he looks up, closes his ledger and clicks his laptop shut. He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking me up and down. "You look very put together this evening. Makes me almost regret what I'm about to do to you."

A split second later he's standing. "I said 'almost', you realize." He crooks a finger under the doubled strand of pearls and his eyes find mine, a hint of a question in the blue gray depths. "Pearls? Really?" He smiles and shakes his head. "You shouldn't have."

Really, I'm glad I did.

I reach up, wrap my finger around his and squeeze before shoving him away and pushing past him. He doesn't move. I turn and glance at him over my shoulder and all he can do is stare, anger and intrigue in his eyes. The grin on his face is challenging.

"Thank you for coming tonight."

"I'm not doing you a favour here, Eric."

"So you've come here on your own terms?"

Perhaps I should have told you first – I've been waiting for an opportunity to say these next few words. Five weeks and they won't leave me alone, won't stop droning over and over and if I don't say them now, I swear to God, I'm gonna explode.

"Quit fucking around and _fuck_ me, Eric."

Trust me when I say this: Eric Northman, thou wearest surprise very nicely.

"Sookie," he breathed gently across my lips. "All I wanted you to do was ask."

His kiss is engulfing, slow, demanding. All at once his hands are pulling at my ass, dragging my pelvis tight against his. Beneath my fingers his shoulders are solid, sure, the smell of his skin and his breath is heady and he tastes sweet and salty in one. I lick his mouth, tilt my head into his, tuck my teeth gently into his lip and tug. My reward is a faint groan in his throat and the sharp intake of air – I've found something he likes and I file it away for later.

Now that I'm writing nicely against his straining fly and his hips are gently pushing against mine timely, his hands are on the move again, now to my breasts, squeezing, pushing them together, molding his fingers around them and then pulling back and sliding his thumbs against my nipples. The cool silk of the dress rubs against them through the mesh of the bra and a delightful shiver runs through me, and I whimper against his jaw.

He pulls away, takes my hand and makes me stand straight. "You should always wear this color," he says thickly.

I make myself ignore the tremor in his fingers as he slides the zipper down the back of my dress. Instead I busy myself catching my breath and starting on the buttons of his dress shirt, first down his chest, and then to his wrists to pull the cufflinks and set them aside My dress is peeled off of me and he bends to slide it down my legs and off of my heels. He stares up the length of my body and smiles. "And Pam is taking you shopping for more of these," he decides. "You like them?" He stands and takes a step back, staring now at the way the fabric presses against my nipples.

"Yep," I smile.

He smiles politely. "Then I won't tear anything." He works his belt and pants open, dropping them and stepping free of his shoes at the same time. In one fluid motion he's set me on the desk once more and he's shoving things to one side. I lean back in the space he's provided and he pulls my feet up, slipping the shoes free and then setting my heels up on the desk and pushing my knees apart.

I don't fight him; I like the feeling I'm getting here: I have Eric Northman in the palm of my hand. It is rather exhilarating, the way he's looking at me and all I can think of is that fine looking cock rising up and curving back to his belly. In a word: gorgeous and the though of him working me with that makes my pussy clench. He hisses and leans over me, settling between my thighs and pushing the cool length of him along the wet swell of my sex.

His touch his searing as he grasps me at the ribcage, his thumbs curving under my breasts. When his cool breath fans over my skin I go cross-eyed and watch, very dumbly, as his blond head bends and he takes one reddened peak in his mouth to toy. He rolls it with his tongue, licks it gently, pulls back, blows – and his hand! His hand works the other one, tugging, sharp, pinching, rubbing back and forth and I very briefly wonder if he might just make me come from this alone.

So I arch my hips and pull at his hair, pushing his mouth against me, and my heels dig into his thighs to pull him and press his cock against my panties. This makes him chuckle and reluctantly, he lifts his head and backs down, sliding his fingertips to the edge of my panties. First one broad shoulder wedges under one knee, and then they other, and no more teasing now because the flat of his tongue his running up and down over me, making the fabric soaked. I know no shame and buck my hips to his face and he groans and doubles his efforts. The fingers of one hand slide along the edge, dip into the hot flesh, and my thighs shake, threaten to close. With a grunt he's pushed them open again and drags the crotch of my panties aside before settling his open mouth over me and licking me from top to tail.

"Fuck!" It's a screech and my head smacks the desk as I let it roll back.

He chuckles against me. "Are you all right?"

"Don't stop." I'm gasping, eager to feel his tongue on me…in me. I gently push up with my hips. "Eric, don't."

"Mmm. I think not." He agrees and then holds me open with his other hand and he kisses me like it was my mouth. A thumb rubs my clit in shallow circles and that's it, that's the spot. It is wet, hot and cold, he eagerly feasts, groaning his pleasure when another surge of wetness touches his tongue. My guts are jelly, my head spins. But it's not enough. My pussy clenches again, expectant, I want him, want all of him.

To my disappointment, he moves suddenly, and comes back seconds later with a chair, urging me to sit down. "May I?" He asks, curling a long finger under the long rope of pearls knotted and hanging between my breasts. Across the room I notice the floor to ceiling mirror, watch the flushed face of a woman and the powerful lines of a man

This vampire was going to kill me with these dirty little kinks. It thrilled me to no end – I briefly wondered what other objects Eric Northman could deem suitable for a sex toy – and I nodded, licking my lips and reaching for the clasp. I sit forward and he catches me there, his arms circling under mine to reach for my back. He tugs the hooks free, slides the fine black mesh out of the way and rolls his thumbs across hardened nipples just as his tongue presses with mine.

Heaven.

Or Hell.

Didn't really matter, what mattered was the perfect sensuality I felt being touched so wantonly. He was greedy and demanding, and I wanted to be consumed. He breathed gently across my lips, sending coolness across my lips and my hips bounced into his, causing us both to groan.

"Thank you, Sookie." He winks and slides back down my body and pulls the strand of pearls taut, creating a rope, and deftly dragging it down the tops of my breasts until it catches on my nipples. The blood in my ears roars and my toes curl, hips and spine rolling, trying to create friction. It is sweet, the sawing motion he suddenly effects, dragging the length of pearls left and then right.

My breath is shuddering as it leaves me and then just as soon as it had started, it stops, and kneeling, pearls in one hand as he presses my knees apart, and brushes his lips against the inside of both.

His hands go to the sides of my thong immediately, tugging gently, pulling them down my legs and flinging them across the room. My eyes find him in the mirror. He is perfection, pale and smooth. Kneeling at my feet, his head raised, I see the arch of his spine, the spread of powerful shoulders, the wonderful sculpture of his ass as it rests on his graceful feet. He is beautiful. This is…I'm drunk on it, feeling it in my bones, I hear his faint chuckle look down. He is smiling softly. "Sookie, are you all right?"

Perfect.

His hair is thick, soft, between my fingers and I tug sharply, twisting my hips slowly. I shiver and sigh and swallow. "Eric. Please."

The thong disappears. He watches me watching him as his mouth gently descends on that wet, silky part of me and then the gray blue pools are gone, his eyes sweeping shut as he bends to his task. I am fascinated by this, by the look of pure enjoyment on his face as he licks, as he sucks and kisses. His tongue rubs, pushing against my clit and I quake, wailing and the feeling is soaring, like I'm in a free fall. I feel his hands brush against my ass for a moment and then he his moving back up my body, the cold air a shock on wet flesh. There is no indication, just an incline of his head as he watches his fingers penetrate and

oh.

oh…pearls. Ohmygod. He's…he's wound a length of them about two fingers and suddenly stars burst and my eyes fall shut muscles clench stomach thighs pussy tight oh… His thumb brushes once…twice…presses in circles.

He jerks his fingers harder, and I grunt in response, and the sound is raw, unlike me. It surprises me, but the surprise leads to arousal. There is something so deliciously erotic about the whole situation and when Eric moves his shoulder, shifts his body to the side and gives me a view of imperfect, smooth pearls wrapped about his fingers, being fucked in and out of my pussy, my toes curl and I _howl_.

How _very_ unladylike.

I shove his other hand away and work my clit myself. Its much more satisfying this way and I lift my head, shake the hair from my eyes and find that Eric's lust – written all over his lovely face – has increased tenfold.

He grins. "Looks like we've one of your strokes, Sookie."

He couldn't be more right. I lick my lips and murmur my agreement, and I grapple the back of his neck with my hand and press one foot against his shoulder to brace myself. I'm gonna come and it's gonna be mad.

"Eric!" It's a scream, a surprise, a plea, and I can't look away from his face, his eyes locked on where he works me.

i come too quickly. Not enough. The orgasm is short lived, a little spark in what I can feel is building up to be earth shattering. I push his hand away suddenly and he looks up. I slide off the chair, crawl to his lap and straddle him where he kneels. He gasps when I press against him, trapping his cock between our bodies and every so slightly I tilt my hips. With a playful smile, gently move up and down, pressing every wet, glistening inch of my sex against the underside of his length. He swallows down a moan and catches my hair in his hands, winding it gently, pulling my mouth to his.

It is the first brush of his fangs that makes my body stiffen, makes me cry out softly and jerk against him. He breaks the kiss, looks into my eyes. I gaze back, tell him that I want him with that look, and a thrill runs up my spine as he smiles crookedly once more, the tip of his tongue wrapping around the point of one fang.

I let him lift me up at the hips and I reach between us, catching that gorgeous column of flesh in one hand, my fingers barely reaching around. I don't care if this is going to hurt, I want this. I want to feel him. I'm ready. I want to feel something different. I know this now.

Slowly I sink down, let him guide me, and he's barely two inches in when he reaches and gently strums my clit with his fingers. I whine at that pinch of pleasure, at the full stretch of it, and gently I move, riding just the tip of him. He gasps as my hips bounce in tiny movements – his cheeks have flushed and his eyes are dazed, heated.

I come. It can't be helped, this is the fullest I've ever felt and I can feel _everything_, every nerve ending is hot and cold and when my muscles start to flutter he grunts and pulls down, not gently, and sinks his mouth against mine in a tangle of tongues. All I can do is cling to him, gasp and look into his eyes, half lidded as he kisses me, like he doesn't want to miss anything. His hands pull at my hips as he jerks up and suddenly he is so deep that I'm sure he'll never come back out.

All of this…this is the most human I've ever seen Eric. Nothing about him says vampire, save for the flash of fang, the cool caress of his lips, the impossible strong embrace as he holds me up. There is a light in his eyes that I believe is rarely glimpsed and I feel a twinge of something light and soft and…content.

There is nothing fast about this. Nothing that would speak of sex-crazed Viking or wild animal, as I've often pictured Eric. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he can hold his own at any pace, but _this_ passion is not something I would necessarily associate with him. But it is not strange to witness.

"You feel incredible."

My arms tighten around his shoulders. I can't look away.

But he can. He moves me gently so that I am angled away from him and his cock is suddenly sliding along a very different part of me and the shock of it makes me gasp and almost pull off of him. His hands are quick and he holds me fast, moving me up and down his cock, watching raptly. Every pass is scoring across that one spot that he so lovingly mapped out for me months ago and I am utterly delirious. My hand searches, slides to where we are joined and with every pass to my clit, I make sure that I also slide my fingers over the base of his cock.

I'm going to come soon and I tell him as much. He nods and urges me on, chanting my name over and over, groaning as he feels me tighten, release, strangle, let go, and he keeps telling me how tight I am, how hot and wet I am, how he's going to come soon if I keep it up and that's when he stops me, holding my hips still in a strong grasp of fingers. I wiggle, roll my hips. I whine – again, not very lady like. Not that he minds. He chuckles at the impatience and lays me down beneath him. I cling to his hips with my thighs as he lands on his elbows, curling my hair around my ears with his fingers. Licking his lips, he curls his hips forward and up and I can only reply with a moan and the jerk of my own hips.

"_Alltfor lang_," he murmurs. "Too long. I've waited too long."

"Mmmm." My hum is content. I smile lazily up at him. "Me too."

He cocks his head then, contemplating, and he presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. His words are soft, his voice deep, barely there. "_Er jag din_?"

His words strike me. I…don't know what he's saying but there is such emotion there that I let my hands come to his shoulders and grasp him there, clinging, pulling him to me as my lips fall to the smooth line of his neck, rasp over the stubble of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbone. The moan that moves through him makes his body quake and I feel it all the way through my bones.

"_Bara for Sookie_," he groans, in that same haunting tone he used with Godric – like a prayer and plea and a breath of contention. My name falls, a sob from his lips and suddenly it is all very real, this vampire above me: love. Pure and simple and unquestionable. His hips twitch and he begins again, new intensity, his eyes sparking blue gray and intrigued.

"In English, Eric," I remind him softly. And he smiles and it is so carefree and _human_ that my breath hitches in my throat.

Then that smile turns crooked and Eric, Eric the _vampire_, is looking down at me, devious, delicious, decidedly devilish. "Only for Sookie," he breaths, the Northern accent tugging at his words. "I am only for you, Sookie," he clarifies before curling his arms under my knees and pulling my hips up. "Do you know how good this feels?"

Do I know…I'm fucking _delirious_, Eric. I moan and nod vigorously. "Oh yes," I gasp. "Oh, sweet lord, yes." And just to prove my point, I buck against him and meet him thrust for thrust. My voice is shaking, popping out of me every time his hips meet my backside. A tremor runs through his shoulders and he whines then, gaining purchase on the carpet with his toes and pushing deep, so deep that my eyes open wide and I wail, sharp, unannounced.

It dissolves into a lazy moan and I catch his shoulder in one hand, his hair in the other, and hang on for the ride.

The touch of his fangs is my undoing. Not on the neck, not my thigh or my wrist or my arm, but softly, a stinging prick and numbing hot ache to the soft swell of my breast. A swift bite and it is done and his tongue is soothing the wound, coaxing blood past his lips. He is drawing me in totally now, pulling me deep, more than I expected him to do so and with the sink of fangs in skin, I am shown everything he does not put on the table. My fingers snare his hair and yank hard, his fangs tearing from my skin and he stares at me, suddenly horrified that he has offended me.

I pull his lips to mine and bite back. His fingers catch my hips, still my writhing, and his blood bursts on my tongue, hot and sweet and ancient. He is intoxicating – that first taste in Dallas was like a first hit of heroin – free, but the second one would cost dearly. I swallow, keep swallowing, and the blood runs deep in my veins and it comes to one crashing head, waves on a beach, a car wreck, train flying from the tracks, skydive crash land head on.

Boom.

Can't fix that.

_interlude: in which i lose my resolve (or, i have tried not to love him)_

_the feel of contentment is like a warm, heavy blanket, stretching from your fingers in a slow pulse. steady. warm and constant. it makes you sigh, makes you smile, makes you see things with an amazing amount of clarity._

_there is harmony in my blood._

_later, he draws back the curtains and lets the moon and the lights from the city pour in. over his broad shoulder, as he stands at the windows, it is like stars and i am overcome by the feeling that i have seen him like this, before, very long ago._

_it passes, fleeting, but and i would do anything to have it again. he grins as he holds up the string of pearls and cocks his eyebrow. "and how did we enjoy that?"_

_"hmmmm," i sigh. "yep."_

_then i blush and sit up, suddenly remembering something from that night. i reach to snatch the pearls back. "oh my god, those are pam's!"_

_"they're mine," he corrected, sitting on the bed smoothly. he threads them through his fingers and glances over his shoulder at me. his face is thoughtful in the shadows and moonlight and a faraway smile touches his lips. he leans back on one elbow and takes my hand, cupping it up. the pearls glide down, one by one, each an imperfect circle, each a shade of black, of lavender, gold and bronze and blushing pink to settle in the palm of my hand. "and now they are yours."_

_***_

end

Author's note:

A little information about Sookie's pearl necklace. A 'rope' of pearls is at least 115cm / 45in or longer in length. Multi colored pearls are quite rare, occurring in shades of pink, blue, champagne, green and even purple. But to collect enough pearls of these pearls to make a necklace can take years and they are extremely valuable. I see it as a pretty heartfelt gift, something that Eric has been stringing together for a very long time.


	4. the missing shard

_So I'm sitting there the other night having an argument with my Sam muse when Eric bursts in, waving this piece around and ranting about how I could have been so heartless to leave it out of the original post. He wouldn't leave me to work with Sam again until I posted this. So, here it is, the lost 'chapter', a continuation of glass._

_Again, I own nothing save for glass, leather, and pearls, and I'm not making any money (yet) with those either._

*****

So I'm boiling a glass sex toy in my Gran's sauce pan. I have to giggle. Bill's not around tonight so I've taken an extra long bath, shaved my legs, piled on the lotion, and am now standing in nothing but an apron, bending over the steaming pot. Like a witch's brew. I giggle again and check the clock. Five minutes are up. With a pair of tongs I lift it from the water and turn the stove off. I set the glass rod down on a dish towel and wait for it to cool off more. That's when I glance at the freezer.

Popsicle, huh?

Up in my room now, a few candles lit, covers pulled back to the end of the bed. The apron has been discarded and I'm waiting for the glass to come back up in temperature a bit – I guess I left it too long and it came out with frost on it. I lay back on the sheets, naked. What exactly is the type of girl who would wear panties to bed, Eric Northman? He's…

My fingers absently stroke my nipples and my eyes flutter shut, brining his face to the fore. I swallow, thickly, because I know that I can almost feel him touching me and I _want_ it. So I slide a little further up the pillows, imagine him there before me, standing right at the end of my bed.

_Sookie_, he'd say. _I want you to touch yourself_._ The way you want me to touch you._ And he would say _please_.

My thighs are already trembling as my knees fall open. _He cocks his head, murmurs at the sight of me, __**Så söt och skär. All för jag**_. I shudder at the reality of it because I know damn well I don't know Swedish but I know what he says. Pretty. Pink. All for him.

I nod, my eyes still closed, Eric still standing before me, watching me with that heated gaze he gets. Then my fingers are moving, one hand dropping between my thighs and I pretend to hear him groan at that. My other hand travels from one breast to the other, gently pulling at my nipples, making me cry out softly into the stillness of the house. I'm wet, borderline soaking, my thumb slides easily to find my clit and I circle it once…twice…

…_go like this_…and the image of him standing before me at the shop, curling his fingers just so and then I've plunged two fingers into myself, gasping at the intrusion, wishing they were his. With a twist of my wrist, I feel it. Feel that spot, that sought after spot that Bill may have glanced once or twice but…oh my, it was not like this. I _do_ see stars – white and blue and pink and purple and hot cold. Toes are curling. I tense my muscles.

…_breathe_…I gasp, shaking and a sob tears from my throat. I've never made that sound, never so wanton and begging…_touch your clit_…and I obey him, moaning so loud, so low, I bite my lip at the sound. And he moans with me.

His name slips out from my lips in a breath before I can stop it but then I'm soaring on a wave, gasping, starting to shake and shudder. I rub harder. Faster. He watches, completely turned on. His fangs have dropped. I fell like…oh…I feel like I'm gonna… I grunt, press harder, chasing that end. So close. So _fucking_ close. My hips buck.

…_your hips bucking_…

My back arches.

…_your back arching_…

Let it go Sookie, I plead with myself. Oh hell what is this and why does it feel so good and sweet and I'm so close so close so close almost there harder harder yes more faster gonna gonna gonna…

Gonna what?

…_I bought you that for a _reason_ Sookie_…

Fantasy Eric is gazing at me, somewhat disappointed, and I remember the blue glass and I smirk. The initial pain of the stalled orgasm is ebbing nicely in my blood and I reach for the toy with the hand that had been at my breasts.

I settle further back, spreading my legs wider, tossing my hair across my breasts, half hiding them. Eric chuckles. I think he likes to be teased a little. Not given everything at once.

But he'll take without asking.

So I trail the tip – still cold, frigid from the freezer – across my lips, glancing it with my tongue and shivering at the cold there. Down my neck between my breasts and then rubbing over each nipple until they're red, standing hard and aching.

Yes. I do think about sex. A lot. I've come to find that I rather like it. Like the idea of being so…wanton and utterly sexy. He frees me; frees my mind and fuels my inhibition.

The cold glass glances off my clit, sliding down between wetness and warmth and lush folds of my sex. I hiss, the sensation is unravelling my will, and my hips bounce as my eyes close and I find Eric there, in my mind, watching, his hand gently stroking an impressive erection as he watches me.

"That's it," he sighs. He nods his encouragement and licks his lips. The rounded tip of cold glass slides home and my toes curl with a gasp and a shudder. I bite my lip sharply and let the glass slip from me, only to push back deeper, at a sharper angle. This time I sobbed harshly, my other hand falling directly to my clit.

I pump faster, heaving a cry and throwing my head back. My spine arches, my fingertips slip slip slide over and over my clit, barely touching, the nerves screaming. My thighs shake. I hear him growl, hear him mutter dirty things _pretty pussy being fucked so well for me._ My effort is doubled, my hand is a blur, and I'm trying to reach oblivion.

My breath is faster, heavier, panting, a name aching behind my lips, clawing at my throat, wanting out and into the air and real – "Eric!" I gasp! It's sharp and my stomach drops as my hips buck sharply and I'm coming. Hard. Shaking. Massive. And I whine his name, pant it, moan it, over and over again as my thighs clamp on my hand, my pussy throbs, my teeth are clenched. Satisfied. My hand is slick. I smile.


End file.
